


there's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

by vachement



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, Multi, Oblivious Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, listen just because he sings about love doesnt mean he knows SHIT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vachement/pseuds/vachement
Summary: Jaskier was pretty sure he was dying. That, or Yennefer and Geralt were planning to murder him and sell his dismembered corpse on the black market, and they were buttering him up so that he wouldn’t fight back.Okay, so maybe the second option was on the wrong side of absurdity, but Jaskier firmly believed thatsomethingwas up.There was no other reason, after all, for the two to be soniceto him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 46
Kudos: 1015
Collections: Witcher





	there's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

**Author's Note:**

> title from "no plan" by hozier
> 
> this is my first time writing yennefer (and ot3!), so let me know how i did!!
> 
> enjoy :))

Jaskier was pretty sure he was dying. That, or Yennefer and Geralt were planning to murder him and sell his dismembered corpse on the black market, and they were buttering him up so that he wouldn’t fight back. 

Okay, so maybe the second option was on the wrong side of absurdity, but Jaskier firmly believed that  _ something _ was up.

There was no other reason, after all, for the two to be so  _ nice  _ to him. 

It had started small: Geralt had given him a complimentary grunt after a performance, and Yennefer hadn’t told him he was out of tune once. Jaskier should’ve seen that that was the beginning of the end, because it had only escalated from there. It had turned into small touches (which Jaskier could readily admit that he liked; he was tactile, and it wasn’t often that Geralt or Yennfer would indulge him before all of this), then larger touches (the first time Yennefer had kissed his cheek, Jaskier had almost keeled over right then and there. When Geralt did it not a day later, Jaskier was pretty sure he died), then  _ gifts _ . 

Frankly, before his two companions, Jaskier had hated gifts. Everyone had always assumed that he’d want the flashiest, fanciest things, and that wasn’t quite accurate. The shiniest things often lacked substance. Jaskier had assumed, when Geralt had shoved the parcel into his hands with a  _ don’t ask questions  _ hum, that the trend would hold. 

The new lute strings had been shiny, sure, but they’d also been exactly what Jaskier had needed. His current ones had been getting a little worn, on the verge of snapping any day. Jaskier hadn’t known that Geralt had noticed. Yennefer had followed the strings with a gorgeous new songbook, enchanted to open only for him to prevent anyone ( _ Valdo fucking Marx _ ) from stealing his songs after he’d told her about his time in the cutthroat music halls of Oxenfurt. 

Jaskier couldn’t say he minded the gifts overmuch anymore. But it was still  _ weird _ . He had absolutely no idea why the pair was being so…  _ romantic _ . Had the behavior been coming from anyone else, Jaskier would’ve assumed they were courting him. But that wasn't possible, because they were definitely, undeniably, deeply in love with one another. 

Jaskier prided himself on his nose for romance and drama, and Geralt and Yennefer’s relationship was full to the brim of both. But at the end of the day, he could practically taste their love for one another in the air around them. It was in their touches, casually given and received by people who had been hurt far too many times, in their words, softly spoken by people with knives for tongues, and in their looks, when they thought the other was turned away. Jaskier noticed it all, wrote about it in a few ballads, and desperately shoved his own feelings down into his chest. 

He saw their love, and he refused to taint it with his…  _ Jaskierness _ . 

He knew he was a lot, sometimes, and Geralt and Yennefer knew it, too. It was clear in the way that he’d sometimes catch them looking at him and whispering at each other. His parents had done that, and his childhood friends, and people he’d met on the road, et cetera, ad nauseum. Jaskier could put together their exact script from experience. He didn’t need to give them reasons to add to it. 

And that was why their behavior was so confusing. Jaskier supposed that maybe they were trying to get rid of him-- the gifts were just giving him the things he’d need to make money on the road without the supplemental income of a sorceress and a Witcher, perhaps-- and he was just unable to take a hint, or maybe they really were planning to murder him. 

Jaskier decided that he would tag along with them until one or both of them (verbally) communicated that they wanted him gone. He was just selfish enough to want to cling to them for as long as possible, to wring every last drop of friendship and companionship out of them until there was nothing left for him. It was what he always did, after all. And when they finally kicked him aside, he’d go graciously, a little bit more broken than he’d been. It was a solid plan, in his humble opinion. 

His departure would be soon, though, if the looks Geralt and Yennefer were exchanging were any indication.

They’d set up in an inn for the night, and Jaskier had immediately taken out his lute while Geralt had handled the rooms and Yennefer their meals. They’d long since perfected their routine; Jaskier would miss it. 

He started his set with the ever popular  _ Toss a Coin _ , delighting in Geralt’s scowl as people took Jaskier’s words literally. Yennefer was practically cackling next to the Witcher, which only encouraged Jaskier. Happiness suited her. It suited Geralt, too, whose lips were twitching up at the corners, despite his best efforts. 

It hurt to look at them for too long, especially when they bent their heads together, clearly besotted, so Jaskier turned away. He winked at a pretty blonde at the bar, flashed a charming grin at a brunet, and played love songs until his fingers started to cramp. 

He noticed the blonde making eyes at him as he finished up his performance. Jaskier had half a mind to go to her; a pity fuck before he set out on the road alone could raise his spirits. Even before he put his lute down, though, he knew he wouldn’t. He hadn’t taken a lover in a long while, though not for lack of opportunity. He didn’t want to think about why. 

Crouching to pick up the coins that had been tossed his way during his performance, Jaskier took a moment to put on his best smile. He whistled as he walked over to Geralt and Yennefer’s table, sliding into the booth across from them and stealing a sip of Yennefer’s nice wine. She didn’t even look like she wanted to stab him; she must’ve pitied him more than he’d thought. 

“How’d I do?” asked Jaskier, putting on his second show of the night. 

Geralt hummed, flashing him one of those quicksilver smirks. “A little pitchy,” he teased.

“You take that back right now,” Jaskier demanded, hands waving wildly. “ _ Pitchy _ ? I have never been pitchy a day in my life. Yen, back me up please, as you’re apparently the only other person at this table with functioning ears. Pitchy, he says.” he scoffed. “ If I were pitchy, I’d eat my lute.”

Yennefer was clearly stifling laughter, her violet eyes dancing with amusement. “You sounded wonderful, as usual,” she said, casting a look that Jaskier couldn’t decipher at Geralt.

Geralt grunted. “You did,” he conceded, looking like the words were causing him actual, physical pain. “I liked the one you played at the end.”

Jaskier’s mouth fell open. Geralt never admitted to liking specific songs, much less  _ love ballads that were literally inspired by Jaskier’s unrequited feelings for him and his lover _ . Jaskier wanted to sink into the floor and have it swallow him up. He’d written those songs under the assumption that Geralt and Yennefer would never listen closely enough to decipher the lyrics, as was their normal routine. Jaskier tried to shove down the mortification he felt at being wrong about that and spin a believable story.

“Ah, yes, the pains of unrequited love,” he said airily. “That one was inspired by a lovely woman we met in our last town. Pity about her husband, though. She would’ve been perfect for me, otherwise.”

Yennefer raised a delicate eyebrow, like she could see right through him. “Sure it was,” she said sweetly. “Only, you didn’t meet any women in the last town.”

“Yen,” Geraly said warningly. 

“Maybe, darling, I’m just more subtle than I used to be with my meetings,” Jaskier gave her his most lascivious smile, projecting confidence even as his leg was bouncing away under the table. “Being chased by angry husbands loses its charm after the hundredth time, I’m afraid.”

He was lying, and they both knew it, but it seems that Geralt’s look was enough to stay Yennefer’s sharp tongue. She just narrowed her eyes at Jaskier (that had no right to be as attractive as it was, seeing as it was probably supposed to be somewhat intimidating) and stood. 

“I’m going upstairs,” she announced and finished off the rest of her wine. She looked over her shoulder. “Are you two coming?”

There was a clear invitation in her gaze, but Jaskier could trace the line of it to Geralt, who stood as well. Jaskier considered staying, maybe drinking some more ale and finding that blonde again. But then Yennefer turned those violet eyes on him, and he was on his feet before he was even aware that he was moving. 

Damn her straight to hell, he thought, falling in step behind her and Geralt. Maybe he could get her to summon another glass of her nice wine for him as recompense. He doubted it, but maybe.

Jaskier followed the pair up the stairs and to their room awkwardly, waiting for Geralt to toss him the key to his own room so he could leave the lovers alone. He stood in the doorway, feeling like an intruder as they walked in like they owned the place. Jaskier cleared his throat, but neither of them looked at him.

“Well,” he said, feigning a yawn as the pair started their nighttime routines. He ignored the trepidation crawling up his throat. “I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you both in the morning. Geralt, might I bother you for the key to my room?”

“We only got the one room, actually,” said Yennefer, not even bothering to look up. There was something almost hesitant in her voice, as if she felt bad about finally giving Jaskier the boot. 

Jaskier’s heart felt like lead in his chest. He took one last look at the pair: Yennefer, gorgeous even as she wiped off her bold eye makeup, and Geralt, strong and stoic as he unbuckled his armor. He burned the image into his mind, even as he knew it would hurt less to forget it all together. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he nodded.  _ Soon  _ had come a little quicker than he’d hoped, but he could adapt. 

“Alright, then,” he said, hearing the cracks in his voice and not being able to do anything about them. He shouldered his lute and patted his pocket to check for his songbook. “Never let it be said that I don’t know when I’m not wanted. Thank you. It’s been…” he trailed off, looking for the words amongst the screaming in his head. “It’s been good.”

He didn’t wait for their responses before he was out the door. He wasn’t sure how he made it out of the inn, honestly, with the tears blurring his vision and the screaming in his head reaching a bitter crescendo. He did, though, and Jaskier was grateful that it was night, so that no one was walking around the town to see his tears drip down his cheeks. The moonlit road was silent and, for once, Jaskier felt no need to break that silence. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he was listening for the sound of footsteps behind him. 

None came.

He’d never begrudge Geralt and Yennefer their happiness. And if that was without Jaskier, then it was without Jaskier. Gods knew they deserved a break from him and Destiny and all the other bullshit their lives threw at them. He’d mope for a while, he figured, maybe write a sad song or a hundred, and then he’d move on. What other choice did he have? They’d made it clear that there was no longer room by their sides for an irritating bard.

His head had quieted, and Jaskier was a glassy sort of calm. Even the sudden rain, starting as a drizzle and quickly turning into a downpour, didn’t phase him. He’d walked in the rain before. It was poetic; maybe he’d get a ballad out of it. 

A noise caught his attention, but Jaskier paid it no mind and kept walking. It had sounded like a portal, but that had to be his head hearing what he wanted to. It was probably a cow. Or a horse. Or a--

“Jas,” Geralt’s large hand snagged on his wrist. 

Jaskier whirled around, startled. “You’re not a cow,” he said dumbly. It was the first thing that came to mind, and he regretted it immediately. “I mean, what are you doing?”

“We should be asking you that,” said Geralt.

Jaskier swallowed. “We?”

“Get out of the rain, you idiots,” said Yennefer from inside her room in the inn. The rain coming through the portal had left a small puddle on the wooden floor. “Or I will close this portal on you, and you’ll have to walk back yourselves.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on right now,” said Jaskier faintly. 

“Come, Jaskier,” Geralt shook his head and gently tugged at Jaskier’s wrist. “The three of us need to talk.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Jaskier said, but he was weak, at the end of the day, and where Geralt and Yennefer summoned him, he followed. Not without protest, though. “Honestly, you made your point quite clear. We don’t need to rehash everything all over again.”

_ I fear you’ll break my heart for good if you do _ , he didn’t say as he stepped through the portal. He’d never say it. They didn’t need to know. 

“We most definitely did  _ not  _ make our point clear,” Yennefer huffed, closing the portal behind them with a wave of her hand. “Because  _ someone _ \--” she glared at Geralt. “--had a  _ stupid plan _ .”

Geralt scowled. “It was your plan.”

“It absolutely was not!” she said, affronted. “I said we should just drag him into bed.  _ You  _ said we couldn’t do that. So it was your plan that was the problem here.”

“You said to get one room,” countered Geralt. “That’s where it all fell apart. Therefore, your plan.”

“Oh, now you use your words?” she rolled her eyes. “When I was trying to come up with ideas, you were all grunts. Now, can we  _ please  _ try to salvage the mess you’ve made?” She turned to Jaskier. “I’m sorry about him, truly.”

Jaskier blinked in shock. He was pretty sure he’d died and gone…  _ somewhere _ . Some fantastical reality, maybe, where up was down and down was up. Because he had absolutely no idea what was happening at that moment. While that wasn’t an altogether new scenario, he’d heard  _ just drag him into bed  _ from Yennefer about  _ himself _ , and that warranted a little more than the usual confusion. 

“I’m going to sit down,” he announced, interrupting Yennefer and Geralt’s squabbling. “I am going to sit down, and I am going to put my head in my hands and wait for the world to make sense again. You two, carry on doing whatever it is that you’re doing, and let me know when you’ve decided to act normal again.”

The room fell silent as Yennefer and Geralt turned to look at him. “I’m pretty sure, this utter miscalculation aside, we’ve made our intentions pretty clear,” said Yennefer with a frown. She tipped his head up with a finger. Her touch was fire on his jaw. “Right?”

Geralt pinned him in place with his amber eyes. “Jaskier,” he said carefully. “What exactly do you think we’ve been doing?”

Jaskier threw up his hands. “Fuck if I know!” he practically shouted. “I thought I was dying for awhile, and you two felt bad about it, or you were planning my murder, or something. And then I realized you were probably hinting that you wanted me gone all along, so I left.”

No one spoke for a long minute. Jaskier chanced a peek up at the pair: Yennefer’s mouth was gaping open in shock and Geralt was making his  _ you’ve said something so impossibly stupid that I physically cannot respond  _ face. They weren’t exactly unfamiliar expressions to Jaskier. 

“You’re an idiot,” Yennefer said finally. She sat down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. “Geralt, he’s an idiot.  _ How  _ am I still attracted to him? Before you two, I had  _ standards _ . I have literally never been angrier in my life. You two have ruined me. I have a  _ reputation _ !”

Geralt hummed, not interrupting her rant. He was a smarter man than Jaskier, in that respect, who had never learned when to shut his mouth and stop asking questions. Hesitantly, he raised a hand.

“I still don’t know what’s happening,” he said. Sure, he had a vague idea of where things were going, but to assume was to hope, and to hope was to get his heart broken, and Jaskier didn’t want to deal with more heartbreak right then. 

Yennefer didn’t even look at him. “Geralt, explain,” she ordered. “If I have to, I’m going to scream.”

Geralt looked distinctly uncomfortable at the thought of having to use his words. “We’ve been… courting you,” he gritted out. If Witchers could have blushed, Jaskier was certain that Geralt would’ve been bright red. 

“You most certainly have not been,” Jaskier said immediately. “You’re in love with each other, remember? I’m just the irritating tagalong bard you can’t get rid of.”

On the bed, Yennefer groaned loudly. “If we wanted you gone, bard, either of us could make it so before you could even complain. Don’t be stupid.”

“Don’t underestimate how fast I can complain,” he shot back, a vain attempt to drive the conversation back to familiar ground. 

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re all familiar with the speed at which you can whine,” the barb was undercut with fondness, so it didn’t sting. “But you can’t deflect so easily. This is taking too long; Geralt, I’m going back to my plan.”

“Yen,” Geralt shook his head, exasperated, but made no move to stop her as she slunk off of the bed and prowled towards where Jaskier sat. 

Then she kissed him, and all thoughts flew out of Jaskier’s head.

Yennefer kissed like she fought: all teeth and ferocity, but there was something soft, too, in the press of her lips. She tasted like lilacs and lightning, like  _ magic _ . Jaskier couldn’t help his gasp when she did something particularly wicked with her tongue, and his hands wound in her hair almost without his consent. The silky strands knotted under his fingers as she pulled him impossibly closer. She kissed him with determination, with passion, like the taste of his mouth was what she wanted most, and she’d be damned if she didn’t get it. Jaskier felt like he was on fire. His lungs were burning, forcing him to pull away earlier than he’d wanted to. If he was being entirely honest, he never wanted to pull away from her.

Jaskier was sure that his pupils were blown as he stared at Yennefer, red-faced and panting. He touched a hand to his kiss-swollen lips and waited for her to speak. 

“We want you,” she said simply, with more composure than she had any right to have after a kiss like that. “Do you want us?”

“Us?” asked Jaskier. 

At some point, Geralt must have stepped closer, because he was suddenly filling Jaskier’s field of view. Distantly, he registered Yennefer watching and smirking like the cat who got the cream  _ and  _ the canary, but at the moment, all he could pay attention to was Geralt.

“Us,” the Witcher rumbled, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s. 

If Jaskier had thought that Yennefer’s kiss had been a battle, Geralt’s was a  _ siege _ . It was a constant press, leaving Jaskier with no escape (not, of course, that he wanted one). He kissed with patience to Yennefer’s fire, but it was no less passionate. He was unrelenting, unforgiving, and Jaskier was pretty sure he could die happy in Geralt’s arms. Jaskier tried to give back as good as he was getting, swiping his tongue against Geralt’s, nipping cheekily at his lower lip, tugging at his hair, but Geralt growled deep in his throat and Jaskier melted into a boneless puddle against him. 

Jaskier couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. For once, his head was fully silent, absorbed in the feeling of lips on his. But the niggling insecurities started to come back when he had to pull back to breathe and the pair remained expectantly silent. They were waiting for something, only Jaskier didn’t know--  _ oh _ .

“You never answered our question, little lark,” said Geralt, his voice pleasingly rough. Jaskier was proud to note that there was a bulge in his breeches that he felt responsible for. Yennefer was harder to pinpoint, but there was an appealing flush on her cheeks, too, that showed she wasn’t unaffected.

Did he want them? Well, obviously yes, but he wanted more than just their bodies. He wanted their hearts, their minds, their  _ love _ . He wanted lazy mornings and inside jokes and every secret they’d be willing to part with. He was like a magpie, and they were the shiniest things of all. He wanted them, of course he did, but he didn’t know that they wanted him in the same way. 

“I don’t…” Jaskier started and then broke off to meet the gazes of his companions firmly while he tried to find the words. “I don’t want to be just your bedmate, tossed aside after one night of pleasure.”

Geralt looked at him evenly. “What do you want?”

“ _ Everything _ ,” admitted Jaskier. He tore his eyes away from the pair, unable to look at them. “I’m greedy, I know. I want everything you’ll give me, and then I’ll always want more. It’s why relationships don’t tend to, ah, work out in the long term for me.”

“Well,” Yennefer smiled gently as she took one of his hands. Geralt took the other. “It’s lucky there’s two of us, then, isn’t it?”

And with a declaration like that, how was Jaskier supposed to resist?

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? 
> 
> comments and kudos make me smile :))


End file.
